<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Cast a black stone behind you by psychomachia</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26851894">Cast a black stone behind you</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychomachia/pseuds/psychomachia'>psychomachia</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Old Guard (Movie 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Booker's Tragic Guilt Complex, Burning It All Down, Drowning, Gen, POV Second Person, rising from the depths, the inherent sexiness of womanly rage and knife violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 16:47:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>952</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26851894</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychomachia/pseuds/psychomachia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Quynh drowns and thinks about burning.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Booker | Sebastien le Livre &amp; Quynh | Noriko, referenced Andy | Andromache of Scythia &amp; Quynh | Noriko</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Writing Rainbow Black</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Cast a black stone behind you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/liesmyth/gifts">liesmyth</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h4>I.</h4><h4></h4><p>You hold your breath.</p><p>You try not to, but there's always seconds between dying and waking, between darkness and drowning when you don't think, don't know, and your body just feels and clings onto life. </p><p>Dying should be easier than this since you're used to it, but maybe your body hasn't given up yet. It still thinks she'll save you. It's the little voice that says, hold on. Keep fighting. Wait. </p><p>She'll save you. She'll find you and a hand will reach down, pluck you from the depths of the ocean, and when you open your eyes on light and air and a world that lets you breathe, you'll see the face of a god. </p><p>Andromache. Andy.</p><p>Ripped to shreds, reduced to ash blown away by winds, buried deep in the earth, no matter what happens, she'll come because she promised you.</p><p>She doesn't.</p><p>You dream of the others, the ones that still share her life, and of the new immortal that comes to join her. The men who fight and fuck and laugh and you're still drowning while she walks and breathes above and never looks into your darkness. </p><p>Maybe that's why your body still hangs on. Even as the flesh and blood come and go, dissolved by water and time and reformed over and over, you cannot give yourself completely to the sea. </p><p>There is a core at you, as rigid as the cage that you are trapped in, and it will not let you slip away into peace. </p><p>You were a dying candle when she found you, sputtering out alone, and she rekindled you to burn and nobody will extinguish that now.</p><p>Nothing can drown you forever.</p>
<h4>II.</h4><h4></h4><p>He gurgles as you pull the knife out from his throat.</p><p>“What the hell are you?”</p><p>Something better than you, you think, but he's not worth your response. His blade is worth far more than he is. </p><p>You're naked, bloody, surrounded by corpses, and the knife gleams in your hand. </p><p>You've had worse mornings than this. </p><p>The men coveted you when you came up on their boat, coughing and shaking, because your bones are beautiful and death has given you flesh, made your blood flow through your veins, turned you from rotting wreck to living treasure.</p><p>They thought you some victim, a castaway from a ship, and perhaps their hands, were they still attached to their bodies, would have sought payment for your rescue. </p><p>But they are not worthy of you. </p><p>You are an immortal. You are a god. You are Thủy Tinh, the storm that strikes, the sea that rises, the flood that sweeps across the land and destroys anything in its wake. </p><p>Your knuckles are raw, your feet bleed from the rocks you walk upon, and you are so very hungry, but you breathe in fresh air and nothing keeps you from your path. </p><p>“Andy,” you say, and the words come out rusty, like the metal cage you've left behind. “I've missed you.” </p><p>The boat burns behind you. </p>
<h4>III.</h4><h4></h4><p>Sebastian—Booker--eyes you as you drink the water.</p><p>“I would have thought--” he starts to mumble, but he drifts off, the stench of liquor and failure potently wafting off of him. </p><p>“You still hold a gun,” you say and take another sip. You smile. “How is Andy these days?”</p><p>He looks away. His tongue cannot get out the words, but he doesn't have to. If your only source of information on your brethren was a drunken Frenchman with a massive guilt complex, you would have fared poorly indeed in this new world. </p><p>“Oh, Sebastian,” you say and fondly reach a hand out to him that he flinches at. You put it back down and smile reassuringly. You don't want him panicking because he might try to run and while it might be useful for your men to get some practice at taking down immortals, that's not why they're here.</p><p>Not yet. </p><p>“It's all right. I know about her. She's doing fine, in case you were wondering.”</p><p>The look on his face is so pitiful, filled with hope and regret and you wonder if you ever looked that young. He's still such a child. </p><p>And like a child, he just needs a little bit of guidance. </p><p>“What do you want?” he asks. </p><p>“One hundred years,” you say instead of answering him. “You know you'll never see her again.”</p><p>You expect him to lash out or to sink even lower in his chair, but he surprisingly meets your eyes and they're clear, repentant. “I know,” he admits. “But it's the least of what I deserve.”</p><p>So very young. </p><p>“I died for centuries,” you say, “because I tried to save a few lives. Do you think I deserved that as well?”</p><p>He looks confused, then nervous, because he hasn't lived this long without some sense of danger. “No, but--”</p><p>“Betrayal isn't something Andy has the right to judge,” you say and your hand doesn't retract this time as you grip his wrist. “And I know you want to come back home.”</p><p>“I—no--” He tries to rise, to pull away. “I have to--”</p><p>“I promise you,” you whisper softly and lean over to kiss his forehead, red lips leaving a mark upon it. “After this, she'll definitely forgive you.”</p><p>The knife flashes out and his throat comes back red. Your cut is precise and he'll bleed out within seconds. </p><p>He'll come back, you think, and you gesture for the men to take his body and clean up the mess. The others will discover it soon enough, even if you have to drop a few breadcrumbs along the trail. </p><p>You walk away, dropping the glass behind you. </p><p>Everything breaks in the end.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>